Light of the Void
by TeamSuperDynamiteWolfSquadrant
Summary: The Inquisition disbanded, friendships broken, and Dorian alone once more in his homeland. It's not so bad. Until he is reminded of what he left behind. M for mature themes in later chapters. Most if not all DA characters will be appearing. Beware random pairings. Using my own Warden, Hawke and Inquisitor.
1. Prologue

Change was coming to the Imperium. It was a slow change. Inch by inch. At first it was so slight, so slow, that no one even knew. It didn't seem apparent to anyone from the lowliest slave to the Archon. And yet someone was provoking the change. Others were knowingly allowing it to happen.

It had been some three years since Dorian Pavus returned to Tevinter. He said nothing to his family on the half a decade he had spent with the Inquisition. He waved questions aside and looked toward the future, speaking enthusiastically of what he was going to do. He had never hoped that in such a short time, people would be gathering to hear him speak, or 'flock to his banner' as some might say. It wasn't as grandiose as that, but there was something of a faction, gaining more attention and more followers each day. He had thought he would have grey hairs by the time anything that resembled this came to be.

Naturally there were those who disagreed with him. Some loud, in public, displaying their own views as passionately as he did. Others were quiet, smiling behind their lace fans, planning to silence the herald of unrest in their lives. Assassins were something that had become normal. Not very common, but he knew to expect a visit if he or his efforts made any form of progress. And he learned how to prepare. To be cautious, yet not paranoid. Wary, yet not afraid.

In all honesty, someone sneaking about his family's home, attempting to slit his throat, proved to be a welcome distraction.  
For beneath all the glamour and pomp, winning smiles and grandiosity, was a very different person.

Magister Halward Pavus would sometimes spy his son in the library. He'd always be found amidst piles of books, scrolls and tomes of all sorts since he first started learning to read. And yet, only he noticed thoughtful eyes staring vacantly over the top of the pages. His thumb resting to turn the page, and yet never doing so, as if he would never reach the end of it. No, the book was simply a decoration to hide behind.

Halward knew that his son's thoughts not only drifted to, but lingered on a singular person. Dorian had assured him on his return that he was through with that life. And yet, whenever his father asked if he was truly done with it, he denied it to the point where they argued. He knew he had slighted his son in the past, but he was trying to accept it. Trying to accept him as he was. And in trying he saw sides to Dorian he had never known. He saw those little pains he tried to hide, and he wanted to help. He wanted only to help his son find happiness. When the Inquisitor had urged Dorian to speak with him all those years ago, it was the beginning. His chance to say sorry. To begin earning forgiveness if it were ever possible.

Now was the time to prove to Dorian and himself that his acceptance was true. That he was earnest in his regret. He settled with the notion that he might be accused of meddling, might even risk losing his son again for making assumtions and then acting on them without telling him about it. There was the chance he could be wrong after all. Dorian might just be thinking about what he should do next. Or alchohol. Or food. And yet, Halward was a bit more dramatic than he would have people believe. Dorian certainly didn't get that from his mother.

And so, it began with him sending a letter. He needed to find someone. And to do that, he needed to know where they had been before, and what had happened. There was atleast a week of silence, before he heard back, recieving a letter detailing the events leading up to the dissolve of the Inquisition.

Ofcourse the letter would have to be passed along in secret. Even with the change happening, it was no where near enough that a Magister could safely exchange letters with the woman who sat upon the South's Sunburst throne. Thankfully, Divine Victoria wasn't one for fancy golden seals. Her letter was written on simple parchment, and signed with her true name, Cassandra Pentaghast.

The first lines apologized in advance. Her talent for writing was little, but she would do her best to explain what she could.

When she had left the Inquisition to be anointed Divine, things were going smoothly. Repairs were able to start on the parts of Skyhold that were too damaged to even consider while facing Corypheus. The last of the fade rifts had been sealed, with no new reports of rifts for months.

Four years of peace. The Inquisition would sometimes be called upon to help decide what was best, or to judge those who couldn't be judged normally. But mostly it remained a place of safety for those of faith. A pilgrimage to those who served the Maker. The Inquisitor wanted it to stay that way, even if he still worshipped the elvhen gods.

And then one day, she recieved a disturbing letter. It was from the Inquisition, carried by one of the Nightingale's ravens. It demanded and pleaded for aid. Skyhold was under attack from some unkown enemy. They had barricaded themselves within, as the enemy laid seige to their walls. They were protected, but only for so long. Supplies were limited, and even if many had been unable to reach the gates before they were sealed, the halls and grounds of the fortress were packed with hungry, scared and starving people.

Cassandra had attempted to call a exhalted March, but the clerics wouldn't agree. Calling for voting and such. Some agreed, wanting to march and defend the symbol that strengthened the peoples' faith in harsh times. Other's said otherwise, saying they could not send an exhalted march for any old reason. In her anger, the Divine had set aside her robes and taken up her sword, riding with a force who felt as she did. The rode hard, stopping only when necessary, and even then most forced themselves through hunger and pain to defend the Inquisition.

By the time they had arrived, Skyhold had been under seige for just short of a month. The walls and bridge were pitted and broken in places from persistent trebuchet fire. Smoke rose from the towers where no doubt, people huddled within for warmth around fires probably fed with most of the tapestries and furniture that once decorated the main hall. There was no way to tell how anyone was doing within those walls. Were all her friends alright?

The Divine led her men in a charge against the enemy, and in mere minutes, the gates to Skyhold opened, and Cassandra saw the Inquisitor and her old comrades pour out to join the fight. Some stayed back to guard the gates, but most joined the fight. Just as the tide of battle began to sway, the enemy halted in their advance, and retreated. Vanished, without a trace. Trackers were sent to follow the tracks, but returned with no news. Even the bodies vanished overnight, as if they had never been.

As frustrating as an unknown enemy might have been, the most important thing was feeding the survivors and getting them to a safe place. Afterwards, the Inquisition was disbanded, not by a vote, but via the Inquisitor himself. He wanted to find the people responsible for the attack. He wanted to stop them. But he couldn't do it with hundreds of people depending on him as the Inquisitor. Or as the herald of Andraste. He had been stressed at the time, and his words had been less kind, but it was decided, and he left the Inquisition along with those of the Inner Circle who were still committed to putting this right. Dorian ofcourse, followed along without question.

Cassandra was unable to go with them, but they often returned to the safety she offered, to rest and resupply. She had assumed things were going well. She was good friends with Lavellan, and Cole ofcourse. If the elf kept things from her, the once spirit would inform her if something was wrong. But nothing was. And then one day she came to visit the library, she heard arguing. Not just hissing whispers of dissagreement. Yelling. Screaming. Enough that the Inquisitor's voice was already hoarse.

At first, she could see him trying to push Dorian away, the mage attempting to see what was wrong. But in mere seconds, it changed for the worse. Words were said on both sides that should never have been said. Had she not decided to intervene, she believed it would have turned into something violent. She never learned what had happened to divide them so suddenly, but the day was not through before Dorian had left for Tevinter, and Skoll left with what remained of the inner circle.

Cassandra had seen neither since that day, and knew little else on the elf's whereabouts. The last she had heard, the group made no progress and drifted apart.

Halward felt like an age had passed as he read the letter. On one hand he felt he understood a little more of his son. On the other, he felt drained and tired after reading it. There was so much to be done, so much to learn and investigate, and yet, he never questioned his decision  
to do this.

Next, he contacted one of the members of the inner circle who had travelled with them until what seemed to be the end. It involved going through various channels and passing notes with servants and slaves who were not even his own. Tedious. But rather quick and efficient.

Efficient being that he recieved a reply in next to no time. But he had a rather difficult time making out the message itself amidst scribbles and rude pictures. For some time he was convinced it was some secret code among the commoners, but after a while, he was able to make out the most part of the message.

Apparently, the Inquisitor had given up not long after his argument with Dorian. They found neither hide not tail of their mysterious attackers. And he wasn't the only one losing the will to keep looking. Not to mention, his older sister, who had been with them since they had defeated Corphyfish was "up the duff with kids already hangin' from her hip". Skoll had decided to return to his clan with his sister. Sera hadn't really liked the idea, but she thought of him like a brother too, so she'd stick around atleast a little while.

But when they found clan Lavellan, Skoll, though welcomed with smiles and words of endearment, had been asked to leave. Before he had been a simple hunter. But to them, the mark on his hand now gave him magic. Abilities that made him a mage. Not only that, but his sister was asked to leave. Human-elf hybrid children could often hide easily within a Dalish clan. Though still an outcast, they were of the people.

His sister however had had, and was about to have yet more, children to a Qunari. A creature rarely met by the Dalish. Tasriel seemed fine, content to leave, already settled with the idea of having to leave. And yet, when Skoll attempted to defend his sister's honour, the Keeper's words had turned from kind and understanding, to harsh and scolding. He himself had been intimate with someone who was not of the people. Not only had he resigned himself to never having a family, but he shamed his clan, and his sister's hard work in raising him, by continuing to wear a trinket belonging to the humans who continued to enslave their kind.

Below was a rough sketch of something that vaguely resembled the amulet all members of the Pavus family were given when they came of age.

Halward remembered asking his son of it's whereabouts on various occaisions, and had always been met with an evasive answer.

'I've momentarily misplaced it.'

'I have it here somewhere.'

'Don't worry about it. It will turn up eventually.'

Once more, he understood.

And once more he wrote, this time to Skoll's sister. It hadn't been very hard to contact her. She lived on a homestead with her Qunari... Tal Vashoth? And his mercenarie group, that still worked to help fund the growing family? He didn't really understand it all. But he wrote to her and her husband.

And their reply said the same as the other two. But at the very bottom, there was a note of concern. Little over a month prior to recieving the Magister's letter, Skoll had wandered off into the woods, and not returned. They hadn't seen or heard from him since.

And that was that. The end of the line. Three months of searching, writing, waiting, reading. And it ended with a disappearance and no more leads to follow. With a sigh of defeat, he let the letter rest on the desk, the thin paper catching the light that streamed throught the window behind it.

What more could he do? If a Dalish elf disappeared, it would be impossible to find them unless they wanted to be found. But if he gave up now, he'd be failing as a father. Again.

No... No... that wouldn't do. He couldn't fail his son, even if Dorian never knew it.

He gathered his papers together from the passed few months. Every copy of his letters. And every note and letter he had been sent, making straight for Dorian's usual roost in the family library. Sure enough he found him there, chatting away with one of his friends about the plans for the next few weeks, when they cut their conversation and looked up at the elder male.

"My apologies, but I would like a moment alone to speak with my son."

Dorian's friend, looked back and forth between both father and son, before standing, giving a nod and leaving the room.

Dorian himself watched the other depart, before his eyes snapped back to his father, who now took up a seat beside him, setting all the letters before him.

"What's this about father? I thought we agreed on the whole 'no arranged marriage' thing."

"Just... read." Halward sighed, tapping the papers as if to make a point, before sitting back.

Dorian frowned softly, suspicious, but did as his father bade and collected the papers, reading them carefully and deliberately. There were moments where his expression would change, recognizing the quirks in Cassandra's writing, or smiling at the little doodle's in the column's written by Sera. However, Halward never failed to notice the clenched jaw, or how every once in a while, Dorian's grip on the letters would tighten.

Eventually, he turned to face his father, saying nothing, just looking at him. Questioning. Confusion, distress, old unhealed pains all at once.

"... Dorian?"

"I don't... Understand..."

"I was hoping to help you. To find happiness. To start living for yourself again."

"... And showing me this? How is this supposed to make someone happy?" The younger male snapped, going to toss the papers on the table before him, but instead, curling his fingers around them tighter, unable to part with the words of his friends.

"The words mightn't make you happy. But wouldn't finding him help?"

"Maybe... /Maybe/... But it's not like I can leave to go on some new adventure. I have things I need to do here."

"I can handle your affairs until you return. And I'm sure you little following will be more than happy to help."

"... You seem quite keen on getting me out of the house. Not planning to seduce mother are you? Because that's disgusting."

"Dorian." Halward gave him /the/ look. A look only Pavus men can master.

"Father." And Dorian arches a brow, giving his father the look right back.

For some time, they're locked in the battle of the look, staring eachother down, when there was a knock at the door to the library. A servant stood, with a shadow behind them.

"A visitor for you, Sir Pavus." If not for his gesture towards Dorian, both men would have asked which one he meant. But even without the gesture, it would have become quickly apparent as to whom he meant as he stepped aside to reveal a boy of no more than 20, hidden under a rather large, droopy hat.

"I want to help."


	2. Chapter 1: The Lead

Dawn light streamed through the stained glass windows, various colours painting the room. Dorian smiled to himself as he looked to the back of the sleeping elf beside him. Originally he hadn't intended to intrude longer than necessary at any time in their relationship. People would talk more than they already did. They would think and say things about the inquisitor that might get to him. However, recently he had been selfish, and slowly moved himself up to Skoll's room.

When said elf shifted slightly, Dorian chuckled softly and leant down to press a kiss to his cheek, holding his arm around him. And yet, he frowned a mere moment later. Skoll's skin burned with a terrible fever, though his breath came out in chilled puffs of air. Fear immediately gripped at the mage's heart with icy, needle like fingers.

He tried to wake him, calling his name, shaking his shoulder lightly. But he answered to none. The more he tried, the more brightly the mark on his hand shone. He could see it start to appear through the bandages Skoll hid it with, glowing brighter until it burned them away. He saw layers of skin peel away like paint, lifting off of the elf's arm and floating momentarily before disintegrating into green motes of light.

From his hand, it travelled, up his arm, over his chest, back, neck, up to his face. Dorian didn't know he was screaming until he opened his eyes and saw Cole staring at him.

He didn't even give a start at seeing him so close, simply, lying back and covering his eyes with his hand as he sighed deeply, relieved if anything to be out of that dream world. 

"The same nightmare again. It hurts to hear it while you sleep."

"Haven't you learnt not to hear that sort of thing anymore? You're a human now. Last time I checked, humans didn't poke around in each other's dreams."

"I can… but then I can't help if I don't hear what hurts."

Dorian cussed under his breath in frustration and decided it would be far simpler if he didn't try to understand, or make Cole understand. Instead, he pulled himself out of the rather uncomfortable cot he'd been lying in and moved over to the wash basin, throwing some water on his face. In some stupid mortal belief that it would wash the nightmares away. In some way, that helped.

It had been like this for a while now. But only the past few weeks, had he been woken before it got worse. Despite his frustrations, he felt a magnanimous amount of gratitude towards Cole. If not for him, then he would have to relive the entire nightmare. The small part, no matter how terrible, was preferred. Though he hoped the dreams would cease entirely once they found Skoll.

Presently, he was staying with Skoll's sister and the family she had started with The Iron Bull. The Chargers were still a fully operational mercenary group, however, they now made this small homestead their base of operations. When not on contract, they lived here, in their own homes, and helped out with the farm and the five hybrid elf-qunari children that ran around from dawn until dusk.

Dorian had already met the two eldest boys, the twins, who had been born back at Skyhold. And their first sister, whom Tas had been pregnant with when he had left. But to see so many children in such a short time, and not only that, but Skoll's sister was heavy with a sixth, possibly seventh child, given the size. It made Dorian wonder about a lot of things. Considering how tiny she was compared to Bull. Was she always constantly with child? Did they have sex every time no one was looking? Had they figured out how to telepathically procreate? Did they ever stop? At some point he just decided to stop wandering about these things before his thoughts got far worse.

Instead he smiled and caught up with Tas like a normal person.

He was thankful for their kindness and hospitality as well. Considering how things had been when he left, he had expected harsh words or something similar to a scolding. Instead he had arrived to a hot meal and a room prepared for him.

Dorian blinked when the sound of the door brought him out of his thoughts. Looking around, he saw that Cole had left him to his privacy once more, and he smiled softly, looking back to the basin. Around it, were little trinkets, knick knacks, bits and bobs and other assorted items. Some caught the light through the small window. Some reflected it. Some did both and turned it into colour. Others weren't anything special, which made them all the more so. It continued up onto the walls. Posters, banners, scraps of pretty clothe. Feathers, dried flowers, and some drawings from the children. And possibly one from Cole. And then up it went onto the roof, where dozens of mobiles made of string and chains and nets hung just above his head, displaying more little precious things. Mostly the ones that manipulated light in some manner.

In the corner was a stack of books, and beneath the window, a makeshift desk with a chair, where a dried up ink pot sat, and countless pieces of paper. Some were drawings, others various writings. Memories on paper, journal entries, a biography, letters, or maybe even an attempt to compete with Varric. No matter what they were, Dorian didn't pry. But he could almost visualize Skoll sitting there, watching the world go by through that window. Falling asleep at the desk and getting ink marks on his cheek again.

It made Dorian happy to think Skoll had built a new life here. And then, he was saddened by it. Why had he made all this, and then left? This room had so much love and care put into it, and yet, as he had been told by Tas, one day, Skoll just walked away and never came back.

Shaking his head, Dorian pulled on his coat, a gift from Tas so he wouldn't complain about the cold, before heading out of the room. He found the elven woman in the large kitchen, dining area. He thought It strange at first, but grew accustomed to it when, as if on cue, every child and charger sat down all around the large table, laughing, talking, trading quips, and occasionally, singing. Loud, crowded and warm. A giant family with one particular Qunari taking the seat at the head of the table. Dorian hadn't known what to expect with Cole either. He thought he might still lurk about in the dark corners, or just sit there watching everyone. But he had grown so much in the past years as a human. He ate and drank, quietly listening to everyone talk, smiling happily every now and then. And always, quite deliberately, sat next to Krem.

It was the same story for almost anything else. He followed the Bull's second in command around like a lost puppy. And yet, Krem seemed rather happy about it. Dorian wasn't even going to attempt to understand the basis of their relationship exactly. He didn't need to after all. They were happy, and he thought… that's all anyone needed to be.

As per usual after every meal, everyone left to do what needed to be done for the day, and someone stayed to help Tas clean up. As he was the honored guest, Dorian had the pleasure of learning to scrub dishes and take scraps out to the chickens. Not something he ever pictured himself doing, but there he was, sleeves rolled up, elbows deep in soapy water, scrubbing gravy and grime off of plates. He'd complained bitterly at first, but Tas managed to shut him up by telling him about Skoll as a child. He was fascinated, and annoyed. Like any good tale, she left it on an ever annoying cliff hanger. Which always made him anticipate washing up a little more.

And with each tale he heard, the more impatient he became to get back out onto the road and find the elf. But he had to wait. Tas was waiting for a letter from someone. Who, she would not say, only that it was a person who had their eye and ear out for any news of Skoll.

It was after two weeks of life on the homestead, that the anticipated letter arrived. A sparrow carried it, a tiny scroll tied to it's leg. It perched on Tas' finger, chirping merrily as she took the message. She gave a reply and sent to little creature off again, before, finally, giving Dorian something to go on.

"Here. Head to the Planasene Forest in the Free Marches." Tas said, handing the small bit of parchment to the mage, who immediately turned to read it. It was a brief report of an excited hunter, who said they had a run in with the Herald of Andraste. A white haired elf who vanquished a demon with strange magic. It had to be.

"… It doesn't seem much to go on." Dorian commented, looking to Tas as if she could shed some holy light on the matter.

"It's the best we've had in months." Was her only reply, before she waved him off. "Go. Get your things together. I'll get some supplies together for you any Cole."

Dorian huffed at been brushed aside like that. He wanted more reliable information. But he supposed this would have to do. And so he went to Skoll's room and gathered his pack and the few things he hand brought with him. He was about to leave the room when something caught his eye.

It was a pendant. A carving from an animal bone most likely, hanging from a leather chord. It was just sitting on the edge of the desk, half covered by parchment, which would explain why it took him so long to notice it. Unable to help himself, he reached out and took it, running his fingers over the ivory surface. It hadn't been polished or anything yet, and was still slightly rough around the edges, suggesting it was unfinished. Never the less, Dorian smiled and slipped it around his neck, tucking it under his shirt. Now… he felt like he had some semblance of connection to Skoll. And for now that was enough.

Outside, Tas handed him a rucksack with food and water canteens for the road. Though honestly he would have preferred wine, but he didn't voice his complaints. Off to the side, he saw Krem saying goodbye to Cole. He didn't hear much, but he was pretty sure it was along the lines of, "Stay safe or else." Cole nodded and promised he would, and Krem kissed him on the forehead. They hugged, and then Cole trotted up to Dorian's side, smiling happily.

"Let's go~" He said and tilted his head, and Dorian, in response, merely nodded and chuckled. He had a feeling if Cole came back any worse for wear, a certain someone would have his head on a pike.

Turning back to Tas, he smiled and hugged her briefly.

"Take care. I'm sure this will all be sorted soon." He said and gave an affirmative nod.

"Thankyou Dorian."

"What? No hug for me?" Bull spoke up, just behind Tas, grinning crookedly.

"No."

"…. Kiiiiiiiids~~"

And just like that, at the call of their father, Dorian had five children clambering over one another as they latched onto his waste, laughing and looking up at him with wide smiles and bright eyes.

"Get off of me! Do you want me to find your uncle or not?!" With much effort, he fended off the giggling ankle biters, shooing them away to their mother. From behind her skirts, they all smiled broadly, except for the youngest, who was still a little clueless about anything more than food.

Dorian smiled a little. They were cute in their own way, but he was looking forward to not having them follow him around all day.

With a few last words, Dorian turned and walked, Cole at his side. It wasn't all too long before the homestead, the chargers, and the happy family were left behind.

"I'm hungry.."

"Cole, no."

/

Skoll shivered lightly, pulling his cloak tighter around himself. He was perched in a tree, back against the trunk as he attempted to sleep for a few moments atleast. One hand curled fingers tightly around a pendant hanging from a gold chain around his neck. He hadn't meant to… but it had become a poor habit. It helped him relax.

Or it should have. Off in the distance, he could hear dogs barking. Hunters barking back in rough commanding voices. He couldn't tell what they were hunting exactly… until the wind carried the words "knife ear" to him.

His eyes shot open, and he strained to hear more. There were sounds of fighting. The telltale ring of magic in the air. He didn't even debate. He was wide awake now and dropped down from the tree, running through the forest towards the sound of conflict. He barely caught a glimpse of who the hunters were fighting. He merely drew his blades on instinct and attacked. Injuring, but doing what he could to not deliver a fatal blow.

The worst were the dogs. The lunged at him, and he had to end two of them, before the third moved back and watched him cautiously with the hunters.

"Are you alri-" He turned to ask the person they were attacking when he froze, not expecting it to be that person of all people.

In his moment of disbelief, he was too slow to notice the hunter's club swing through the air. Too late he saw it as it hit him in the face. He was knocked off of his feet, blood pouring from his nose. There was nausea and dizziness, his vision swimming as he struggled to correct himself. Before he could even attempt standing, the hunter who had hit him took a fistful of his hair and lifted him up by it. Skoll had always been light, so it wasn't like the hunter could claim great strength or anything.

He sneered at Skoll as he squinted, inspecting him, his horrible meaty breath not helping the elf's nausea one bit. He glared at him, or something like it, to the best of his ability, trying to push him away.

Greedy little eyes moved immediately towards the golden chain, and ofcourse the gold pendant that hung from it, encrusted in jewels and engraved with an intricate symbol in the center, two snakes wrapped around it.

"Now… why would someone like you, have a pretty little thing like this~?" The hunter said, taking the pendant in his spare hand and yanking it from Skoll's neck, snapping the chain.

"No! That's mine!" Skoll snarled, regaining a little more of himself. As his emotions sparked, the mark on his hand answered and there was a flash of light. Both Skoll and the hunter fell back from one another, only now, the hunter was one less arm. He rolled around in the dirt, screaming, and his fellow hunters shouted and charged.

All of a sudden, the roots of the trees shot up from the ground and blocked them off momentarily. Someone grabbed Skoll's arm and pulled him up onto his feet, before tugging him along into a full sprint.

"Wait! My necklace—"

"Leave it!"

He didn't argue. He just ran.


End file.
